


the shirt off his back

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [26]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, Gen, Siblings, Tumblr Prompt, blake siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Octavia walks into her brother's tent to find Bellamy sewing, because the remainder of the 47 want nothing more than to divest themselves of all things Mount Weather, up to and including the clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the shirt off his back

At seeing the electric blue light glowing from underneath her brother’s bedroom door, Octavia groaned. She was dead tired from a double shift on guard duty and just wanted to crawl into bed with Lincoln. But it was late, and her brother was still up, and no one else was going to make sure he went to bed.

She didn’t care how vehemently he insisted that he was sleeping just fine; the dark circles under his eyes and the exhausted slump of his shoulders told a different story. The nightmares couldn’t be helped, not after what had happened to him (to all of them) in the mountain, but he didn’t have to make the issue worse by not even trying to sleep in the first place.

Not bothering to knock, Octavia pushed into the room and was greeted by a murmured string of swears. As she raised an eyebrow in Bellamy’s direction, he brought his thumb to his mouth, pressing the pad against his lips, glowering at her.

“Privacy, O. Learn it,” he mumbled at her even as he continued to nurse the tip of his presumably injured thumb.

Octavia barely resisted an eye roll. “You’re up late. Too late. You need to go bed.”

Her brother just shrugged, pulling his thumb away and pressing it against the pad of his middle finger a few times before turning back to the table in front of him. The surface was barely visible, as it was covered in various heaps of clothing. Octavia recognized some of the pieces, having seen their friends wear them, but a lot of it was just squares and strips and big patches of cloth. Off to the side, a big pile of tangled thread rested near the edge of the table, as if ready to be discarded.

As Octavia moved closer, she almost tripped on a bucket, the sloshing of the disturbed contents sending a harsh, sterile scent wafting towards her.

“What is all this?”

Bellamy didn’t look her way, just picked up the needle in front of him and snorted. “What does it look like?”

Octavia reached over and flicked his ear, earning her another scowl.

“If you’re going to be annoying, feel free to leave,” he muttered, hunching over as he tried to thread the needle, failing spectacularly three times.

With a huff, Octavia reached over and grabbed it from him, giving the end of the thread a quick twist and a lick before sliding it through the needle’s eye with ease. Grinning triumphantly, she handed it back to him, laughing when he couldn’t fight his lips curving up into a wry smile.

“You shouldn’t be so good at something you hate,” he complained, bracing his arm on the back of his chair as he looked up at her fondly.

Ignoring his comment, Octavia folded her arms across her chest, pushing forward, still curious. “So are you going to tell me what this little midnight project is?”

With a sigh and an exasperated look, Bellamy ran a hand through his messy curls before he replied, “Monty knew Mom was a seamstress, and he said some of the kids have been feeling really uncomfortable wearing the clothes from Mount Weather. Tainted memories, and all that. He asked if I could find a way to get them new ones.”

“Do we have extra clothes?”

“Of course not,” Bellamy said tiredly, his eyes shuttering, weighted and tired. “Besides, the mountain clothes are good quality, probably much better than any extras of ours that we could find. It’d be stupid to waste them. Still—” He trailed off, his gaze drifting away from hers.

“Tainted memories and all that,” she repeated, softly.

Her brother nodded absently, running his finger along the edge of what used to be a button-up shirt.

“You’re repurposing them,” Octavia murmured, finally seeing what was in front of her. A skirt deconstructed, patterned into what now looked like a T-shirt. Patches added to a pair of pants. Fabric cut up and sorted by color, to be mixed and matched until the original garments were unrecognizable.

“The sweaters and pants—we’ll need them this winter, that’s for sure—they were too precious to fool around with, so I’m bleaching them,” Bellamy added, gesturing to the bucket behind her. “Raven said she might be able to whip me up some basic dyes, if I’m extra nice to her. A change in color was the best I could do.”

His last words almost sounded like a plea, or even an apology, and Octavia felt her eyes begin to water.  _Oh, big brother._

With gentle movements, she leaned forward, cupping the back of his head as she planted an affectionate kiss on his forehead.

“Got another needle?” She asked quietly as she pulled away.

The way his eyes brightened at her request caused her throat to tighten, because how did he not know he didn’t have to do this—carry the weight of their people—all alone?

Just as he passed her a needle, though, he pulled it back, frowning slightly.

“You hate sewing. Always did—Mom could never get you to sit still long enough.” He paused, considering her carefully. “Really, O, you don’t need to do this.”

Octavia sighed, a bit exasperated because  _would he just let someone help him already, the stubborn idiot._ “Bell, I only hated it because it was the only thing I was ever allowed to do. Stuck in that room, watching Mom’s needle slide in and out, in and out all day? Of course I hated it.” Reaching out, she plucked the needle from his loose fingers, shooting a small smile his way. “Now I have a whole forest to run around in, friends to talk to, arrogant Alpha sector assholes to wipe the floor with during training. A little bit of sewing isn’t going to kill me.”

“You should be in bed—you had a long day,” he protested weakly.

“And like you didn’t? Now shut up. I need to concentrate.”

She scowled at Bellamy teasingly, which drew a sarcastic snort from him. His eyes were warm and full of gratitude, though, and Octavia smiled in response, knowing how much this meant to him.

_Anytime, big brother_ , she thought, giving him one last fond look before bowing over the scraps of fabric in front of her, ready to get to work.


End file.
